


Flock of Two

by Seamonkey_101



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Father-Daughter Relationship, Hordak Adopts Adora, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soft Hordak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29595555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seamonkey_101/pseuds/Seamonkey_101
Summary: After discovering an abandoned child in the portal's wake, Hordak finds something he did not expect within the tiny creature's eyes.Deciding to take her in and raise her as his own is a simple enough decision to make given the circumstances. But what unforeseen repercussions could this seemingly inconsequential act of compassion have on the clone—or the Horde at large for that matter—as Adora grows up in a similar, but completely different environment.Or: Hordak awkwardly stumbles into the concept of unconditional love, realizes it's pretty neat, and proceeds to stumble his way through parenting.
Relationships: Adora & Hordak (She-Ra)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 57





	1. Arrival

Etheria’s moons shone brightly over the silent field. Rays of light refracted brilliantly through towering crystal formations that dotted the grassy landscape, sending streaks of rainbow-hued light dancing across the blueish-green grass stalks that swayed gently in the cool breeze. Birds could be heard singing in the distance, their melodious chirps carrying across the rolling hills that encircled the tranquil plains.

The field was—objectively speaking—a beautiful sight. If one cared to notice such frivolous things.

The place was serene, unassuming. Isolated. Who could have guessed that such a locale would become the inception sight of an inter-dimensional portal; A tear in the fabric of space that momentarily linked the dimension of Despondos to the larger universe. A temporary window, offering the unwitting etherian populace an escape from the glorified prison they so happily existed within.

Not that any of the planet’s natives were even _aware_ of such a world-shattering development. The portal had opened and then the portal had closed, once again leaving the etherian’s none the wiser. 

Because by some cosmic miracle, this was not the first time a portal had opened on Etheria. Years ago, in a place far from these plains, another doorway had opened. And it had dragged something through from the other side, stranding it in these strange lands.

Something lost. Something confused. Something angry.

Something that wanted out.

Something that had learned of this new portal’s arrival. Something that had converged on its location, but arrived too late to accomplish their goal.

He had, however, arrived just in time to see the doorway close. To see the swirling vortex of black and purple, waver and collapse in on itself, unleashing a mighty shock wave that banished the darkened sky and gales of wind that pressed the tall grass flat against the earth. The crackling electricity and scent of ozone that once filled the air had vanished, replaced with that of pollen and loam.

As quickly as it came, the portal had disappeared. Without the decency to leave even the smallest sign of its existence in the first place.

At the edge of the field, Lord Hordak, supreme ruler of the Etherian Horde, stood atop his skiff. Stood. And watched.

As if staring intently enough would somehow bring the portal back.

As if the universe would reward his patience and persistence, and Horde Prime would swoop down and welcome his little brother back with open arms. And then… And then Hordak could go home. He could have his old life back. He would have his creator’s love and approval. He would have the familiar presence of his brothers at his side, and the comforting whispers of the hive mind in his skull. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, with nothing but hollow memories to comfort him in the night. 

He could have it all, _everything,_ if he just waited a _little longer._

But he knew none of that was going to happen. Hordak had been given his chance, and he had failed. Because that’s what he was: a failure.

He had failed in his duties to Horde Prime. He had failed to cure his worsening medical condition. He was currently _failing_ to conquer a single, measly, under-developed planet. Why was it any surprise when he failed to arrive at his destination in time?

When he failed to send a signal through to Prime.

His claws balled into fists.

When he _failed_ to rescue himself from an eternity of isolation and loneliness. Condemning himself to a continued exile on this backwater world, rife with inferior, selfish, deceitful beings that were also, by some cruel twist of fate, his only hope of ever truly proving his worth to his creator.

All because he _failed._

**“RAAAAGH!!!"**

He hurled his data-pad. The fragile device flew through the air and shattered against one of the crystal formations that littered the maddeningly-peaceful field. The effort knocked a lock of Hordak’s blue hair out of place, settling between his eyes.

He screamed again. A wordless cry of pure, unfiltered rage aimed at a cruel universe, at his insufficient self, and at every conceivably smashable object in a twenty-foot radius. 

His chest heaved as he took in deep, ragged breaths. His face contorted in fury.

Sixteen Years.

He had waited _sixteen years_ for another portal to form naturally, and he had missed it by mere seconds.

Another scream. He slammed his fist into the skiff’s tiller, the force, bending the metal out of place. His eyes clenched shut in an effort to hold back tears. Anguish, rage, and self-loathing all fought and slammed against one another in a brutal contest to see which would overtake him next. In the end there was no victor. Inevitably they all mixed and swirled together, forming a towering wave of suffering that drowned Hordak in a sea of his own impure emotion.

His surroundings slowly melted away; the sound of the birds, the scents of grass and earth, the feel of the wind on his skin. All of his senses dulled to nothingness as his shoulders shook, and the same word repeated endlessly in his mind.

_Failure. Failure. Failure._

He wasn’t sure how long it had been—how long he'd stood there, before he heard it; a shrill, high-pitched wail that sliced through the sickening quiet of the meadow.

Hordak’s ears twitched and his eyes shot open.

Suddenly his head was above water and Hordak was back on Etheria. The clone’s head swiveled in an almost mechanical fashion, eyes scanning the horizon for the source of the familiar noise.

His ears twitched again as the pitch increased. Yes, definitely familiar.

He wasn’t exactly _proud_ to admit he recognized the sound of crying infants, but these things tended to happen when one was in the business of subjugating worlds. Although, this time it seemed... _different._

In his past experiences, the shrieking of frightened children had simply been part of the background noise; along with the hydraulic groan of his bots, the incessant hum of laser fire, and the deafening roar of exploding buildings. All of it melded together into the trademark cacophony of war that Hordak had become so intimately familiar with over the years.

Usually it was merely white noise, a droning din that thrummed unceasingly while he and his soldiers committed all manner of violent acts in the name of “peace and order”. But this was different. For some unfathomable reason, he felt drawn to the cries. They helped him to focus, tossing him a lifeline with which he could drag himself out of the pit of despair he had been wallowing in.

His ears perked up, searching, zeroing in on the source of the disturbance. Eventually he narrowed it down to somewhere in the field ahead of him. Forty-to-fifty meters from his current position if he had to estimate. Hordak’s brows pinched together, it was roughly the same area as—

His eyes widened in realization.

Something had come through the portal.

It took him a moment to realize his body was already moving, his legs carrying him off the skiff and steadily marching through the knee-high grass in search of this mysterious new arrival.

His shock began to fade as he took a figurative step back and started to properly analyze the situation. It made sense; he too had been brought to Etheria by a portal. Until now he’d assumed it had been a freak accident. But the odds of a naturally occurring inter-dimensional portal, _coincidentally,_ forming directly on top of a living organism _twice in a row,_ were so infinitesimal that they might as well be non-existent.

Which meant it was on purpose to it. There was a _reason_ Hordak had been stranded here.

He didn’t understand what in the universe that purpose could possibly be. He decided he didn’t _need_ to understand. Hordak had spent the last decade and a half carving out his own destiny on this wretched rock. He wasn’t going to waste time now, pondering what kind of _brilliant_ plan involved kidnapping people, seemingly at random, only to dump them in an empty field hundreds of kilometers from the nearest civilization.

(He was, apparently, going to waste time tracking down whatever pitiful creature had just become the portal’s latest victim.)

The cries grew louder. Hordak wasn’t sure if it was a matter of proximity or the child growing more distressed, either way he quickened his pace. He reached the site of the portal, which, to his petty disappointment, was as equally unremarkable as the rest of the surrounding field.

Save for the extraterrestrial infant, of course.

Hordak loomed over the tiny bundle. Inexplicably, it managed to be even smaller than he expected. He lent forward slightly to get a better view.

Lying nestled in a flattened patch of grass, swaddled in a soft, blue blanket, a child continued to scream and thrash. Its eyes were screwed shut, its tiny face was streaked with tears and coloured bright red from the exertion. 

Hordak felt something inside him snap. That… wasn’t supposed to happen. Clones weren't programmed to feel mercy or compassion. Such concepts were weaknesses, and embracing them would be to welcome the darkness with open arms.

And yet... And yet, Hordak couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the unfortunate creature that lied before him, because he _understood_. He knew what it was like to be ripped away from his home and his brothers and from the only world he had ever known. To suddenly have everything he’d ever cared about torn away as he was dragged across the universe, kicking and screaming. To be dropped into the hostile wilderness of some Prime-forsaken world trapped in a shadow dimension, scared and alone, without the faintest clue as to what had just happened or why.

He didn’t have to imagine what this child must be feeling. Hordak was already painfully familiar with the overwhelming sense of fear and confusion that they must be experiencing. He winced as a particularly loud shriek escaped it's deceptively small mouth.

His fists nervously clenched and unclenched as he continued watching with morbid fascination. Suddenly Hordak was remembering his own first day on Etheria; The hours he’d spent sobbing on the edge of that accursed pond, mourning the loss of his old life, allowing his impure emotions to consume him, because—because what else was he supposed to do? He was nothing without Prime's guiding light.

He still wasn’t quite sure how long he'd lied there before he finally worked up the energy—the _strength_ to do something about it. To get to his feet and save _himself_ from this horrible fate.

He had a sneaking suspicion that this girl wouldn’t last nearly as long. Not without help at least.

Kneeling down, Hordak carefully wrapped his claws around the blanket and lifted the child off the ground.

Much to his surprise (and greater confusion) the infant settled the moment he lifted her off the ground. Her cries dying down as he gently gripped both sides of the bundle and stood back up, holding the child at arms length. The girl’s eyes blinked open, and steel-blue met blood-red as two aliens examined one another.

It took a second for him to recognize the look of wonder that sparkled in her irises. Hordak felt a strange, warm feeling spark in his chest. How long had it been since someone had looked at him with anything but fear or hatred?

The child made a fascinated cooing sound that snapped Hordak out of his trance. He should probably say something. Anything that his new acquaintance might find remotely comforting. He brushed the odd feeling aside and cleared his throat. It was still sore from his own bout of screaming.

“Have no fear, little one. I mean you no harm.”

The girl cocked her tiny head to the side and made a confused gurgling sound.

Hordak was suddenly very aware of the fact that he had exactly _zero_ experience interacting with infants. It hadn’t been necessary until now, he and his brothers were all “born” fully grown and programmed with all the information they needed to properly serve Horde Prime.

But this girl—this _baby_ didn’t have those luxuries. In fact if Hordak was to guess, he doubted she could even feed herself without proper assistance. He probably should have found it pathetic, _weak_. Instead, it was strangely endearing. A being so fully dependent on its creator was something more familiar to him, even if this was a rather extreme case.

He chose to continue his attempts to reassure her, regardless of the very probable language barrier. Perhaps she would pick up on the words’ meaning if he simply repeated himself enough.

The bundle shifted slightly. The girl looked down at the vast, empty space between herself and the funny-looking thing that was holding her. She studied the gap for a few long moments until, finally, it clicked. Her eyebrows knitted together in determination.

With a bit of wriggling the child managed to free one of her little arms, extending it towards Hordak and making a grasping motion with her hand. A small pleading sound escaped her lips.

The clone arched a brow, confused. When he didn’t react further, she made another sound; this one more demanding. Hordak looked down at his chest, which he assumed was the object of her fixation. Was it the Horde insignia? The bright red wings clashed heavily with the dark blues and greys of the rest of his outfit. The child must be drawn to the dichotomy.

Another demanding squawk. Hordak frowned at her tone. It was rather irksome to have such a minute, helpless creature demand things from him. Scratch that—it was irksome having _any_ creature demand things from him. He was the _Lord of the Fright Zone_ , none were entitled to his services. Hordak provided his assistance only when and _if_ he so desired.

She squawked again, desperation replacing insistence. Her face scrunched up and tears began to form in the corner of her eyes. Hordak felt an uncomfortable twinge poke at his heart.

Perhaps he so desired after all. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to witness his small concession. Hordak pulled the bundle closer. Close enough for the girl’s tiny hand to touch the tensely woven fabric of his tabard. Her face lit up with a wide grin.

A grin that dropped almost immediately when she realized she wasn’t getting any closer. The girl’s next sound was much angrier. She curled her fingers into a poor attempt at a fist and slammed it into Hordak’s chest.

The clone’s eyes widened in indignation. Had she just tried to punch him?!

He received an answer in the form of a second not-fist bouncing harmlessly off his cuirass.

Hordak glowered at the sheer audacity. "Cease that at once." he ordered, in his most authoritative voice.

His assailant's head tilted upward to face him. The child looked him dead in the eye... and struck him again.

"Enough!" Hordak exploded. "I am trying to help! Have you no concept of gratitude?" He growled, indignantly.

Still not getting the desired reaction, the girl changed strategy. She grabbed hold of the fabric (a task that took longer than it should have, due to her continued inability to properly ball her hand) and gave his tabard a purposeful tug.

Hordak suppressed the urge to groan. Such visceral displays of exasperation were beneath him.

“I do not understand.” He spoke through gritted teeth, “What could you possibly want from…" Hordak's voice trailed off as he watched the infant continue to pull at the fabric. No, not the fabric…

_Oh_ _._

Slowly, carefully, Hordak altered his hold on the bundle. Leaning the girl into the crook of one arm, while the other gently held her in place. Once he was satisfied that he was holding her correctly, Hordak hugged the child to his chest.

The girl made another small sound; joyful and satisfied. She raised her tiny hand once more and awkwardly brushed it against the dark cloth she was now pressed against, making a remarkable little giggling sound as she did so.

Hordak tilted his head upwards, and just… stared into the horizon. Stunned. That strange spark had burst into flame, and the warm feeling was spreading throughout his chest like wildfire. It was… pleasant. It was not hot like anger, nor did it burn like shame. It was simply _warm_ _._

Hordak wasn’t sure if it was familiar. He’d been having trouble remembering certain details of his old life lately, but he thought that maybe it was. _Hoped._

His brow furrowing, Hordak looked down to find the girl smiling contently. Her skin had returned to its natural pale and a lock of blonde hair had freed itself from its fabric prison. Her gaze seemed to be locked on the sky overhead. It wasn't something he could really fault her for; Not many planets possess twelve glowing moons that also miraculously gave off enough light to substitute a sun.

But while she watched the sky, Hordak watched her. He stared intently, trying to piece together this strange puzzle he'd stumbled across. He had seen children before of course, both up close and from afar—the Fright Zone was full of orphans. In the earliest days of his Horde he'd even helped to collect several of the creatures. Hordak hadn’t felt anything for any of _them_ _._

So why was this one different? Why did she elicit his compassion when none other had? 

Then he looked at her, _truly_ looked at her. What he saw was an alien. An outcast. A stranger, lost in a strange land. She did not belong here. Etheria wasn't her home, it was her prison. One she had surely been sentenced to unjustly.

Yet, she was here regardless. And because of it, she would never again see the stars shine overhead. She would never be given the opportunity to explore the spectacular expanse of the cosmos. She would never be held in the arms of her creator and told that she mattered. That she was _worth something_. That she had a purpose within this dark and chaotic universe.

All because that infernal portal had brought her here. She, out of trillions of beings had been chosen—had been _condemned_ to such a cruel fate, and for what?

Hordak didn't have an answer, but he was beginning to understand why he was drawn to her. They were one in the same. Kindred spirits.

The girl caught his eye and flashed a bright, toothless smile, then let out another giggle. The warm feeling flared up once more. Without thinking, Hordak began gently brushing her cheek with his thumb, the girl instantly leaned into the touch. The clone felt a sense of melancholy overtake him.

“You did not deserve this, little one.” He said softly.

She was so small. So _helpless._ She could never have made something of herself in this bizarre, disorderly world. Hordak sighed. The least he could do was give this lost soul a place in his empire. At least then she would live. Maybe even thrive.

It was the least he could do. But some small, probably insane voice in the back of his mind began to wonder about his best…

His thoughts were interrupted when, without warning, the girl grabbed hold of his thumb. Hordak froze, his eyes locked on the clumsy set of digits that were just barely wrapping halfway around his thumb. Soft, pink skin pressed against his own scarred, calloused flesh. Dull, blunt fingernails, laying mere centimeters away from the sharp claw at the tip of his finger. The comparison only further emphasized how fragile she was.

Hordak blinked slowly. The gears in his head, grinding to a halt.

The child was staring at him again, her expression a mixture of joy and reverence. She squeezed his thumb, the change in pressure was so minute that Hordak might not have noticed had his attention not been so thoroughly rapt. With dull curiosity, he started to pull his thumb away. The girl held on as tight as he imagined she could, she even tried to pull back. It wasn’t anywhere near a contest, but Hordak let her drag him back anyway.

The clone’s head tilted to the side. His lips parted, as if to whisper a reasonable explanation to himself, but no words came out. The warmth still did not burn, but now it had a weight to it, and it was pressing down on Hordak’s chest harder and harder the longer he stared.

A realization came to him slowly—almost _cautiously,_ as if his brain knew that revealing it too suddenly would frighten him off. This girl: she _wanted_ him to hold her, and she wanted to hold him in return.

She... wanted him?

Hordak blinked. And then he scowled at his own foolish conclusion. What was he thinking? He shook his head on the off chance that he might feel whatever loose implant was causing this malfunction. He scowled harder when it seemed that the contents of his skull were all still firmly in place.

No one _wanted_ Hordak, the very notion was preposterous. His own creator couldn’t even find a valid excuse to keep him around, not when there were oh so many brothers that could replace him at Prime’s convenience. What value did his life hold when another could be grown in his place on their god’s whim.

Ah, and _there_ was the heat, the anger. Not directed at Prime or his fellow clones, but at himself. He knew it was his own fault. He was a defect and a failure who'd been practically handed everything a clone could possibly ask for, but still managed to ruin it for himself. He didn’t deserve to be wanted—not yet. Not until he proved he was more than just another expendable follower. Proved that he couldn’t be replaced. That he was worthy of Prime’s love and respect.

It was how things were. It was how things would always be, and Hordak had come to terms with it long ago.

But now this girl was watching him with that amazed gleam in her eye, like none of that mattered. As if he didn’t have to claw, and fight, and drag himself to glory just to earn the right to be looked at that way. As if him merely existing was somehow enough.

He pulled his hand away and let it fall limply to his side. The girl protested, tried to reach for the talon, and made a puzzled face when it exited her line of sight. Then she looked up, and her confusion turned to amusement as she stuck out her arms and grasped at Hordak's face.

There was a sort of wrenching sensation after that. It didn’t hurt like he expected it to. It did, however, leave him stunned. His breath caught in his throat and his thoughts trailed away to nothing. Nothing but this strange, tiny life-form that didn’t know anything about anything, but still _wanted_ him.

Despite himself, the corners of Hordak’s mouth twitched upwards. With barely a thought, he hesitantly brought his hand back up and slowly waved a claw in front of the girl’s face. Within seconds, she took hold of his finger again, and began to giggle hysterically.

The wrenching became a soft flutter. 

Hordak looked down into a pair of blue eyes, so full of trust and innocence and warmth. He realized he didn’t care if he deserved it or not, he _wanted_ this girl to continue smiling and giggling and _looking_ at him. He also realized that, for once in his life, there was nothing keeping him from his wish.

On a paranoid whim, he quickly glanced around the field. No one. Then scanned the horizon. Still no one.

"Well," He said, turning back to face the girl with a weak smile on his face and a flicker of hope in his soul. “It would appear that you are stuck with me, little one.”

Maybe… Maybe Hordak didn't have to be alone anymore. The girl’s wordless babbling wasn't the echoing thrum of the hive mind, but it was still soothing in its own strange way. Her eyes shone the wrong color, but so did his, so maybe that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She wasn't a clone. She wasn't perfect, but that didn't mean she couldn't be taught how to be. None of it meant she couldn’t be accepted into Hordak’s little flock of one.

And if he could prove to Prime that he was wrong—that Hordak was more than just the miserable defect he thought he was—then surely he could convince his brother to welcome another lost child into his light.

The girl chirped happily in response, blissfully unaware of what a poor guardian she had just been saddled with.

A cool breeze swept through the field, and even though Hordak barely felt it, he somehow knew that it was _too_ cool. How long had he been standing here? He went to check the time, stopping with an annoyed growl when he remembered that his data-pad was now in six-to-seven pieces. He looked up to the sky, trying to remember what position the moons had been in when he arrived.

After a few seconds had passed, he decided that the chronology didn't matter nearly as much as getting back to base alive. Something that probably wouldn’t happen if he kept sky-gazing in the middle of contested territory.

Heading back the way he came, Hordak began re-wrapping the thin blanket that the child had arrived in, a gesture which she fervently protested.

"Quit fussing," he grumbled, tucking the blanket under her chin. She grumbled back in response, which, to Hordak's ears, sounded a tad too argumentative to be complete gibberish. He gave her a warning look and let out an amused huff as they exited the tall grass. 

He boarded the skiff with less difficulty than he expected given one of his arms was occupied with what he cautiously assumed was extremely fragile cargo. With his free hand, Hordak reached for the tiller… and found that it was currently bent at an entirely unhelpful angle.

Hordak growled, then purposefully clenched his jaw because his first impulse was to hit something else. And that wouldn’t fix anything so instead he forced his fingers to wrap around the straightest portion of the lever and give it an experimental tug.

...It would suffice.

“Brace yourself, this will not be a smooth journey.” He warned the child. And then felt like an idiot when he remembered what he was talking to. She was already as braced as could be.

He turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. The skiff shook a little as Hordak tried to test the steering in motion. What _he_ found immensely unsettling, the girl apparently found endlessly amusing, if her laugh was anything to go by.

The shaking slowly stopped as he eventually got the hang of the altered controls. His companion’s laughter trailed off in a similar fashion. He shot her a small smirk, which she returned in the form of a beaming smile. Hordak's eyes burned a little brighter as he hugged the bundle closer to his heart, and set course for the Fright Zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this idea has been growing in the back of my mind since season 5 premiered and I finally gave in. The outline is fairly worked out so we'll see how much of this I can actually finish. (This first chapter took a lot longer than I would have liked)
> 
> This is my first time actually writing a story so I hope I'm doing good enough so far.


	2. Arrangements

Hordak was seated on the comfortably-uncomfortable seat of his throne, newly-acquired child still very much in hand as he wondered what, exactly, he was doing.

He'd taken the girl. He'd brought her back to the Fright Zone. He’d even made it all the way to the sanctum before he finally realized he didn’t have any sort of _actual_ plan. Just a lot of confusing new emotions and a child who stubbornly refused to provide any creative input of her own. By then the shock and nervous excitement had started to wear off, leaving Hordak without any distraction to keep him from acknowledging the profound new responsibility that he'd just taken on. 

And now he needed to figure out how much of said responsibility he was actually capable of shouldering.

He hadn’t the faintest clue as to what it took to raise a child, so he’d need to let the infirmary staff handle that while he tried to figure it out. The sanctum probably couldn’t be considered a safe environment for such a fragile life-form, so she’d have to sleep in the barracks until he could construct proper quarters for her. And, on top of everything else, she wasn’t native to this planet, so Hordak had to figure out, _very quickly,_ if there were any pesky biological complications to worry about.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated sigh as he calculated how long all this would take to complete in addition to how much of a delay it would put on his other projects.

He pointedly _didn’t_ calculate how big of an advantage those delays would grant the Princess Alliance, who were beginning to actually push his forces _back_ on some fronts, after they’d miraculously found a way to coordinate themselves a few years ago.

Hordak sat there for some time, head in hand, thinking up more and more ways this decision would inconvenience him. His brain raced through reason after cold, logical reason as to why this was an overall terrible idea. When he was fairly sure he’d run through all of them, Hordak lowered his hand, lifted his head to stare at nothing at all, and then he _laughed._ A single manic-sounding exhale escaped his mouth before he could clamp it shut. 

He laughed because he _didn’t care._ Hordak was consciously dealing a potentially massive blow to his own productivity, and he despite every reason that he _should,_ he simply couldn't bring himself to care. Somehow, this little girl that couldn't even count the fingers on her own hand had successfully convinced him that all those tiny, infuriating nuisances and setbacks would be worth it, if it meant she would be there; alive and well and—ideally—standing nearby to see him mitigate all the problems she was inadvertently causing.

Hordak took a deep breath, shrugging off the nonsensical apathy that had taken hold of him. He glanced down at his new… Sister? Ward? He actually wasn’t quite sure what to call her yet other than _his._

She was asleep at the moment, softly dozing in his arms, trusting him to keep her safe and secure until she was ready to wake. Trusting him to be there when she needed him. Hordak gingerly brushed his thumb against her cheek, his lips quirking upwards. He intended on earning that trust. He _was_ going to keep her, because verbal or not, he’d made a promise to her back in that field. He was not going to break it.

He wasn’t going to fail her.

Now he just needed to figure out _how_ he was going to do it.

First things first, she needed to be brought to the infirmary, sooner rather than later.

Hordak's smile faltered. He didn't much like that part, it didn't help that it was literally the very first step. The thought of being separated so soon was an unpleasant one to say the least and there was a selfish, irrational part of him that simply wanted more time.

More time for what, he couldn’t even say. The part was refusing to elaborate.

Then of course there was the small, but rapidly-growing fear that whatever tenuous bond they’d formed might be broken if he let go too soon.

The thought that she might not look at him the same way if he left her with someone else filled him with a terrible, gnawing dread. Hordak knew the fear would consume him if allowed it to fester, so he very forcefully _didn't_. He drowned the nagging fear out by reminding himself of the simple fact that he had no other choice. Especially not after it had become so painfully obvious that he was unequipped to care for her himself.

The clone gave a small shudder, recalling his earlier failed attempt at feeding the girl. Evidently, her species was not compatible with Hordak's synthetic amniotic fluid. That, or she just held remarkably strong opinions regarding the taste. Either way, it had taken him nearly half an hour to soothe her cries, (it was still unclear which of them had been more distressed during that period) and he imagined it would take even longer to scrub the stains out of his tabard.

So yes, despite his fears, it was definitely in the girl's best interest that she be tended to by people who actually knew what they were doing. At least until she was older and a tad more… durable. Perhaps when she was developed enough to walk, Hordak could attempt to take up a more involved role once again, but for now he would just have to… observe from a distance.

_Which was perfectly fine,_ Hordak thought over the twisting sensation in his chest. (It was far from the most alarming sensation he'd felt in it today) He had other business to attend to after all. Running an empire was no small task and it wasn’t as if he could afford to waste precious time, constantly doting on his new… 

His new…

...Daughter?

Hordak blinked, then hummed to himself thoughtfully as his previous worries vanished into thin air. Slowly, carefully so as not to wake her, he lifted the girl upwards, closer to his face. The corners of his mouth twitched again. He’d always considered sleep to be a rather boring state of being, but in this moment she managed to look just as precious as ever.

“ _Daughter_...” He whispered, testing the word out loud, seeing how it felt on his tongue. It certainly sounded better than ‘ward’. And, honestly speaking, the girl was far too alien-looking for Hordak to earnestly refer to her as ‘sister'.

But ‘Daughter’, that could work. It came out sounding mostly natural, and it seemed a fitting enough description of their would-be relationship. Besides, a child had never before existed within Prime’s flock, it made sense that her title reflected the abnormal circumstance.

And if this girl would be the Horde’s first daughter, then… that would make Hordak the first father. Yet another detail that would set him apart from his brothers and the unintentional competition they created for their god’s favour.

Now Hordak was feeling an odd flicker of anxious pride as he considered the implications. When he returned to the known universe and took his rightful place at Prime’s side, he wouldn’t be bringing along just another nameless sister that would wordlessly blend in to the crowds. He would be bringing something _new_ into the hive mind, someone that was _his_ before she was anyone else’s.

Hordak grinned, imagining the surprise—maybe even _jealousy_ that might quietly spark in the other clones' thoughts. The stoic, yet approving look on Prime's face when he looked upon the dutiful new disciple his lost brother had managed to raise while in his exile.

He pictured himself, walking through the pristine white corridors of the flagship alongside a young woman dressed in matching black robes. Her brilliant blue eyes fixed on him as they shared thoughts and ideas on how to improve their master's great empire. Every now and then their shoulders would brush against each other, a silent reminder of a unique bond that transcended even the hive mind.

Yes, Hordak believed he would very much like to have a daughter.

He was starting to lower her back down when the girl stirred. Hordak paused his movements, a sharp spike of guilt sliding between his ribs, but it was to no avail. A pair of big blue eyes, still bleary from sleep, blinked open. They wandered around somewhat aimlessly through her limited field of view. It was debatable whether or not she absorbed any of the information.

A moment or two later, the eyes regained their clarity and the first things she _looked_ at were the sharp features and glowing eyes of her new self-proclaimed father looming overhead. Her face lit up with a bright smile while her little limbs started to stretch under the blanket.

Hordak smiled back without thinking as the guilt dissolved. The pure, unbridled joy that flowed off the girl was frighteningly infectious, and it did wonders to ward off the paranoid fears of abandonment that were already trying to ease their way back into his thoughts.

A scarred finger curled beneath her jaw and lazily scratched under her chin. A delightful giggle dragged its way out of her before she was able bring her own uselessly-small hands up to try and push him away.

Hordak huffed in amusement, and mercifully let himself be fought off.

Fully awake now, she started to wriggle in his grasp. Her legs spasmed a few times, which he belatedly realized was an attempt to kick off the blanket, and her weight shifted back and forth as she tried to roll over in his arms. 

Hordak observed this new behaviour with a mild interest. He tried to get a clue to what her goal could possibly be; from what he could tell so far she was simply moving to _move._

He should start taking notes. Logging her development could prove beneficial to his future parental endeavors.

(It was also a reasonable enough excuse to keep an even closer eye on her while she was staying in the infirmary.)

Before he could take the thought any further, he was interrupted by the throne room doors slamming open. Instinctively, Hordak’s head snapped up, his hands moving to quickly swaddle the girl into a tight bundle while his mouth opened to shout at whoever dared disturb him.

What just barely stopped him was the way the lights flickered right as the doors opened. The way the room somehow felt a little colder than it should. The way the shadowy corners and crevices between the machinery suddenly appeared darker, more _sinister,_ than they had mere moments ago.

Hordak snapped his mouth shut, and bitterly recalled how much he _detested_ magic.

His face twisted into a scowl as he subtly turned the bundle in his arms towards his chest and away from the doorway—or more accurately: the person who had just come through it.

Shadow Weaver silently glided across the room in that same unnerving, _unnatural_ way she always did. Hordak was not an expert in sorcery, but he imagined that near-constant levitation required _some_ degree of effort to pull off. At this point he was certain the sole reason Shadow Weaver bothered with the effect at all was merely to flaunt her freakish abilities as often as possible. The same went for the floating edges of her robes, and the writhing mass of liquid shadow she called hair.

If he’d been in possession of visible pupils, this would be the exact type of trivial, vain, nonsense that Hordak would roll his eyes at.

The Horde’s resident witch, and current second-in-command, was, for once, forced to wrinkle her pristine robes when the time came for her to kneel at the base of the throne’s stairway. Her head hung low in a display of subservience that Hordak was becoming increasingly less convinced of in recent months.

The woman did not wait to be addressed.

“Was your excursion successful, Lord Hordak?” She said, without even a speck of enthusiasm.

Hordak wasn’t able to stop the growl that escaped his throat. _The portal._ In a split-second all of his previous anger and frustration rushed back to him at once. His jaw clenched _hard,_ so hard that his teeth ached. His ailing muscles tensed beneath his armour, suddenly itching to lash out at something— _anything._ The girl made a concerned noise as his grip tightened, it was loud enough for Hordak to force one of his hands from the blanket and onto an armrest, so that his claws may dig into metal rather than innocent flesh as he fought down another humiliating outburst.

Shadow Weaver waited in stone-silence while he forced all his volatile emotions down into a secure little container where they wouldn’t be able to slowly tear him apart from the inside. It was so much easier to just let them out, to redirect that searing, destructive energy towards something besides himself instead of trying to wrestle them into submission. 

But he knew that once he let them out he’d only feel ashamed. Anger burned hot, but it also burned fast, and once the fuel was gone Hordak would only feel empty and cold. And it was never wise to feel weak in Shadow Weaver’s presence.

His fingers slowly relaxed their hold on the armrest, even though he could still feel the writhing and prodding at the inside of his ribcage. It would do. 

He dialed back his scowl from incensed to annoyed as he turned his attention back on Shadow Weaver. She had lifted her head slightly, either hoping for permission to rise, or trying to sneak a glance at Hordak for whatever reason.

“I arrived too late,” Hordak answered her question honestly, his shame covered by the thick coating of simmering rage that oozed off his words. “The portal had vanished before I could send the signal.”

“That is… most unfortunate.” The sorceress said. Doing an objectively terrible job of pretending that she had the faintest comprehension of how large a setback this was. She even had the audacity to sound distracted.

A long, uncomfortable pause followed. Shadow Weaver was simply kneeling there, still—and about as useful—as her beloved runestone. Hordak glowered down at her from his seat, silently counting down the seconds until he lost his temper and demanded she get out and stop wasting his time. The girl helpfully filled the awkward silence with the occasional questioning babble aimed in her new father's general direction.

“Is there anything _else_ I should be made aware of, my lord?” Shadow Weaver needled, not-so-subtly tilting her head towards the child.

_Not really, no._ Hordak thought, but didn’t say. Instead he gave the sorceress what she wanted: clarification of the obvious. “Something came through from the other side.”

Shadow Weaver took that as permission to raise her gaze up from the floor. The blank, white eye-spots of her mask immediately zeroed in on the child cradled in Hordak’s arms. “So I can see.” She said. Her voice holding more genuine interest than Hordak had ever seen her give to anything other than a particularly magical rock.

“Why has it not been placed with the other orphans?” She asked, not taking her eyes off the girl as she spoke. She sounded distracted again, like the words didn’t really matter, and only existed to extend the length of this conversation.

Hordak’s own eyes narrowed. “I have taken an interest in this one. There is something… different about her." Which, like most things he told Shadow Weaver, was only the information she needed to know.

Apparently that was more than enough this time, judging by the way her eyes widened in surprise, before she _finally_ pulled them away from his child, and turned to face him. A small bit of tension Hordak hadn’t even noticed left his shoulders.

“You can sense it, too?” Suddenly Shadow Weaver’s voice was quiet, almost… _worried._

Which wasn’t the reaction he had expected. Something _wrong_ started creeping its way up Hordak’s spine. He leaned against the armrest, and tried to make his scowl seem more indifferent than suspicious. “Would you care to be more specific, Shadow Weaver?” Tried to sound more annoyed than clueless.

If she noticed anything, she didn’t show it. Shadow Weaver’s eyes shot back to the girl, even with the expressionless screen of her mask Hordak could see an intensity there that made his skin crawl and his ears twitch nervously.

“She has _power._ ” The word was laced with something dark, something hungry. Whatever it was, it urged Hordak to pull the bundle closer to his chest, and hold her a little tighter. There was a crimson flash of bared teeth that vanished the instant he could school his face back into a more detached glare.

Hordak let out a measured exhale through his nose. Shadow Weaver still didn't react to his strange behavior, she was too busy _staring_ at _his_ daughter to notice.

"Power, you say?" He ground out slowly, fighting to keep his voice even.

"Yes," Was that actual _glee_ he was hearing? "Far more than I have ever seen in a child so young." Shadow Weaver turned her attention back to Hordak, he decided it was now vitally important that it remained there.

“Is that so?” he drawled, knowing his apparent lack of interest would bother the sorceress to no end.

Sure enough, Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed at him and her shoulders went rigid. Always so sensitive about her little tricks. She raised an open hand, palm facing up, as if she were offering him something other than more vague promises. “Don’t you see what this means? With that kind of magical potential, this child could be the key to us destroying the rebellion for good.” The hand clenched shut into a shaking fist for emphasis.

That… was a very _bold_ statement to make for someone who’d only known the girl even existed for a couple minutes. It didn’t help her case that Hordak had heard very similar words more than once before.

“Lord Hordak,” Shadow Weaver spoke like she’d just had the most brilliant idea. “You must allow me to take her under my care. That way I will be able—”

She was cut off by the grating sound of claws raking across metal. The mask winced before shooting an alarmed look at Hordak’s clenched fist, and the set of shallow grooves that now defaced the throne’s armrest.

“I _must_ allow it?” Hordak hissed through gritted teeth and the stinging pain in his fingertips. His eyes flashed dangerously. 

The container in his chest had just cracked, letting Hordak’s rage leak out and pool in the bottom of his chest where it could begin to properly boil. Shadow Weaver wanted _his_ child. The blasted witch had crept into _his_ throne room, and requested that he hand over the only thing on this planet that made him feel like he wasn’t entirely alone. Someone who could maybe provide Hordak with some small amount of _actual_ joy for the next Prime-knows-how-many-years before he could find another way of this rock.

His scowl deepened at his second-in-command, who probably thought that she had just made a tactful approach. Somehow Shadow Weaver had come to believe that she could simply _ask_ things of Hordak. That all she had to do was wave her hand and spout some nonsense about magic, and that would naturally be enough to convince him to part with whatever it was she desired. As if she had done nearly enough to earn that kind of trust.

It was arrogant. It was presumptuous. And it _wanted Hordak’s daughter._

The sorceress seemed to realize her mistake. Her hand lowered awkwardly to her knee. “What I meant, Lord Hordak, was that it would be in the Horde’s best interest—”

She kept talking, but Hordak didn’t listen. His gaze wandered away from his rambling second, and landed on the girl in his arms. She was fidgeting in his grasp, and watching him with an alarmed expression.

His scowl softened slightly. He could see the burning red of his eyes reflected in the soothing blue of hers. It simultaneously calmed him and enraged him further, because Shadow Weaver wanted to take this from him and he most certainly wasn’t going to let her. The fire that had been his emotional, reactionary anger was doused, but it was immediately replaced with a cold and focused substitute.

It was time Shadow Weaver was reminded of her station.

“No.”

Whatever Shadow Weaver had been saying was abruptly cut off as she balled her hands and narrowed her eyes at him. “No?” She said, indignation managing to paint itself all across her mask.

Hordak turned his face back to the witch, his expression regaining its previous harshness. Shadow Weaver wisely ducked her head. And then very unwisely opened her mouth.

"May I at least ask _why_ you would squander such an opportunity, my lord." _Very_ bold indeed. Hordak might have been impressed if he wasn't so violently angry.

“The key to destroying the rebellion.” He repeated, adding a touch of grandiose flair to his cold deadpan.

“If properly utilized, yes.” Shadow Weaver said, exasperated. Like _he_ was the one not understanding the situation.

Hordak leaned back in his seat, creating an illusion that he was in any way calm. “Like you promised the Black Garnet would be?”

The sorceress bristled under the implied accusation. “I have made _significant_ progress with the Garnet—”

“And it has taken you years to accomplish!” Hordak snapped. He raised his hand, pointing a finger at the red gem embedded in the mask’s forehead. “I have allowed you access to _my_ runestone because you assured me that you could put its power to good use, but after all this time you still have nothing of note to show for it.”

Then Shadow Weaver was on her feet. Fists clenched, and head held insolently high as the nearest shadows started to writhe and twist. “Nothing!?” She demanded “I have done more—!”

Hordak slammed his fist into the armrest. The sorceress flinched hard, then shot him a look that might have been fearful before quickly morphing into a defiant glare that she hid by bowing her head low.

“Careful, Shadow Weaver.” He growled. “I am in no mode for your impertinent excuses.”

The noise startled the girl. She let out a frightened squeak, followed quickly by crying; loud and shrill and _scared._ Hordak hated that sound, and he hated Shadow Weaver for pushing him to the point where _that sound_ was the outcome. 

He left the sorceress where she was and turned his attention on the person that needed it most. He quietly repeated the soothing _shh_ -ing sounds and gentle rocking motions that she seemed to find comforting. He kept brushing the side of her face, softly caressing her too-soft skin as the cries slowly diminished into a string of distressed hiccuping sounds. Only when the noise was reduced to the occasional hushed whimper did Hordak turn back to Shadow Weaver with a vexed frown.

At some point she’d tilted her head back up. Both eyes were narrowed, one squinting slighter more than the other. The expression could have been anything between befuddlement and disgust.

Whatever it was, Hordak didn’t have time for her judgement; he had a point to finish making. He pushed off of the throne, slow and steady enough as to not disturb his still-mildly-distraught daughter, and stepped forward until he was on the precipice of the narrow staircase.

“The Horde demands results, Shadow Weaver. You are failing to provide them.” He raised a hand to the bundle and started tracing the girl’s face with a claw. “And yet somehow you have the gall to ask more of me.” She looked as if she were about to say something. He didn’t let her. “If you wish to convince me that you are entitled to anything more than what I have given you, you can start by proving your precious magicks can do anything other than disappoint me.”

Shadow Weaver clasped her hands together and bowed her head low. When she spoke her voice returned to the politely-submissive tone she usually used in Hordak’s presence. “My lord, _please._ I understand your frustration, but all I _wish_ is to make the most efficient use of our resources, so that your grand plans may come to fruition as swiftly as possible.”

Hordak took a deep, steadying breath, because he did not appreciate being lied to. He started walking down the steps.

“If that is true, then you will be pleased to know that I _do,_ in fact, have plans for this child. Plans that do not concern you. Plans that I will see to _personally,_ while you attend to the responsibilities you have been given.”

He stopped in front of his still-bowed second-in-command. He was close enough to see that her hands were clasped far tighter then should be necessary for someone that truly had his best interests in mind.

“Am I understood?” He growled. His tone made it clear he would only be accepting one particular answer.

“Of course, Lord Hordak.” She answered robotically. “Your will is my will.”

“Good.” Was all he said before continuing to march forward, forcing Shadow Weaver to scramble out of the way before she was trampled by him.

“I am going to the infirmary,” He said loudly, refusing to look back at her. “As for you, I’ve heard the Fifth Battalion is requesting resupply. Do not keep them waiting any longer.”

The doors slammed shut behind him with a rather nice finality. Though, Hordak had a sneaking suspicion this wouldn’t be the last he heard from the sorceress regarding this matter. It was of no consequence, he’d simply berate that bridge when he came to it.

It didn’t actually occur to him until much later that all that talk about magic might have held water.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea has been brewing in the back of my mind ever since season 5 premiered and I finally gave in. The outline is fairly worked out so we'll see how much of this I can actually finish.
> 
> This is my first time actually writing a story, so hopefully I'm doing well enough so far.


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